A Letter to Myself:
Keep Going Mama.
A Letter to Myself:
I think about you sometimes mama.
Twenty-eight years old. You just had your first baby. You felt joyful. Exhausted. Your nipples hurt. Heck, it all hurt. But you didn’t mind. Because you had the most beautiful baby boy.
You named him Cooper months before he was born. You painted his nursery blue. You went to birthing classes and read What To Expect When You Are Expecting.
Your husband bought him a baseball glove and bat. And a Minnesota Wild jersey.
You were both so ready for him when he arrived.
I can see you going to the hospital. So excited. So scared.
I can see you holding him in your arms for the first time, both of you shocked a little bit by what had just happened. You kissed his head. You rubbed his back while exclaiming that his skin was the softest thing you had ever felt.
You fell in love instantly and all at once. You were a goner. So was your husband.
You knew then. You knew from the second you held him in your arms that something was different about your baby. You will later tell people you saw it in his eyes. But it was more than that. You just knew in your heart. But no one will believe you. Not for many years.
Autism won’t be said out loud for years to come. I call it the in-between space. It’s a hard place to live. The knowing and yet, no knowing. You will make it through. I promise.
I wish I could have told you then that autism was coming. Maybe prepared you a bit for the hurricane that would consume you.
The fight. The worry. The fear. The joy. The love. The everything. But also that your son was and is exactly who he is supposed to be.
Autism wasn’t given to him by a doctor, Kate. Or in some small dark room. Cooper is exactly who he is supposed to be.
Smart. Funny. Challenging. Worthy. And more. Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt that.
He’s not like the rest. Not our boy. There is no one else on this earth like him. So don’t try to force it. Don’t force him to conform. Let him guide you.
Throw out the child raising books. Write your own. One that will become the guide for other parents.
Always remember that he deserves every single opportunity. He deserves the same as everyone else.
And lastly…know that you are enough. You are enough for him. But you need to get stronger. You need to learn to fight like hell. And be relentless. Not fearless. But brave.
You can do it mama. Know that. You can do it. And you will. Even when you feel like giving up…you won’t. It’s a walk you have to take mostly alone. But soon you will realize that you and Cooper are paving the way for others.
He is worth it Kate. Kids like him are worth it. And you two will prove that to the world.
Keep going.
And spoiler alert. It turns out. It all turns out. Better than you could ever imagine.
You just have to keep going.
I had the honor of writing the forward for my friend Amanda’s Gratitude Journal. It is such a beautiful publication, and I am excited to share it with you!
The Gratitude Journal is a collaborative self-reflection for moms raising children with disabilities.
In the journal, you will hear from 30 moms from across the country who share gratitude for their own journeys raising a child with a disability.
Come with us to Costco! This video is one of my most favorite outings with Cooper.
Thank you all for being here!
